Minnows

Almost Lost and Found

Water-polished rocks formed an appealing path across the end of a winter trickle of the San Pedro River. She had crossed without hesitation, her sights on the beautiful Blue Morpho Butterfly, floating teasingly a few steps ahead.

On and on, she followed, halting only when the butterfly paused to visit a blooming Bird of Paradise or Indian Paintbrush as a faint breeze danced through majestic mesquite leaves, cooling her skin in the warm afternoon sun.

She abruptly lost sight of the butterfly when her footsteps startled a covey of quail into brief flight. She heard the unmistakable sound of the steadily flowing river, and for the first time since stepping across the rocks, Hanky worried she might be lost. Hadn’t her mother warned her not to cross the river?

A silver-blue flash through the thick grove of trees near the water nearly had her blindly running back. But on second thought, it actually wasn’t threatening. When she saw the flash again, she decided to investigate and crept beneath the trees until she could clearly see the old fisherman, his long legs bent as he perched on a small boulder, the bright sun glinting off the lures in the brim of his hat.

She was dismayed by the familiar tingling in her nose and couldn’t suppress a mouse-sized “achew”, and the fisherman briefly looked her way. Hanky took a kerchief from her backpack, slowly walked to the riverbank, sat on a nearby rock, and said “Hi.” The fisherman nodded once in her direction.

“I think I’m lost.” She drew a squiggly line in the dirt with her finger.

“Uh yeh, do you know where you’re from?”

“Of course!” did he think she was dumb? She wondered.  “I’m from Coppertop Farms.”

“Uh yeh, then you’re not lost. Just climb that tree.” He pointed a long, bony finger at one beside her.

Hanky had never climbed a tree in her life, but she’d always wanted to. She just didn’t know what climbing a tree could have to do with being lost. Still, it was tempting.  Hanky sneezed once more and decided, yes, she would climb that tree! Standing, she set her backpack on the ground and shoved a kerchief in her pocket.  “What’s your name, sir?”

“Liam,” he answered around the fishing line he cut with his teeth before re-baiting a hook.

“I’m Hanky Hannigan and I’m gonna climb that tree!” she announced proudly.

Liam nodded once in her direction, and Hanky grabbed a low branch and began to climb.

Mindful of thorns and brushing away ants, higher and higher, she climbed, pausing only to marvel at the changing view below. She saw the rocks she’d stepped across just around the river’s bend and farther still where the riverbed was nearly bone dry. Up above, two tufts of white dotted a clear blue sky, and straight ahead in plain view was Coppertop Farms! Filled with relief and fueled with excitement, she scampered back down the tree. “Oh, Liam! It’s beautiful up there!”

“Uh, yeh. You still lost?”

“No, Sir!” she sneezed and smiled. “But I am hungry.”  She took crackers and sliced cheese from her backpack and offered Liam a “sandwich”.  He accepted and ate it in one bite. She offered another and another. Apparently, Liam was hungry too.

Before long, shadows deepened in the grove, signaling that the extraordinary afternoon adventure was coming to an end. Hanky stood and shrugged her backpack on; she had a question for Liam.

“Do you ever catch any fish?”

“Uh, yeh. Caught one last year.” For the first time, Liam smiled. “Goodbye, Hanky.”

“Bye, Liam. Maybe I’ll come again sometime.”

He nodded once in her direction.

Hanky jogged, walked, skipped, and smiled all the way back home.

Dee Kay

Hanky’s Hatbox